EDITOR'S NOTES How Duran Duran changed my relationship with my mother

Tuesday

Dec 24, 2013 at 2:00 PM

I hear a lot of people talking about holiday memories this time of year.Although it's not what Christmas is really all about, many times people will cite a childhood Christmas as one of their favorites because of a certain gift they received.For me, that Christmas was 1984  when I got a gift I wanted more than anything which at the time was a total material thing for me, but that years later I came to understand was so much more.The summer between eighth and ninth grades I became immersed in hero worship  becoming a card-carrying Durannie (literally the fan club sent you a membership card): A fan of the British pop group Duran Duran.I was kind of late to the party  I became a wannabe Duran Duran groupie in the summer of 1984, just as the band was on an extensive world tour made up of sold-out shows and just as their fame was at its zenith.As luck would have it, a few months after the tour wrapped a documentary about it, "Sing Blue Silver"  covering the Canadian and North American leg of the tour from Jan. 30-April 17, 1984  was released.Having not been there myself, this would be the next best thing.I put it at the top of my Christmas list and hoped against hope my parents would be able to get it for me. Magazines and newspapers ran stories about how record stores couldn't keep it in stock. My mother, who didn't want me to be disappointed, would gently tell me she was looking, but that I shouldn't expect it for Christmas.Maybe, she reasoned, they would be easier to get in the spring and I would get one for my birthday.On Christmas Day, I happily and gratefully opened the packages marked for me. I got a purple Venezia sweater, a floppy black velvet hat, a stuffed Pound Puppy and all kinds of other great things.When I thought I was done, I looked back toward the tree to see a small package with my name on it leaning against the wall behind the tree. I reached out and touched it it felt like a plastic VHS tape case.I pulled my hand back as if the package had bitten me.No way.My heart started racing. I picked up the package like it was a grenade. I turned it over in my hands, willing it to stop feeling like a tape case and getting me all excited for nothing.Gingerly, I tore away the wrapping.There it was  "Sing Blue Silver."My mom had done it.I burst into tears and flung myself into my mother's arms. I proceeded to watch the tape about a dozen times that day and several times a day for the next few years.Years later, I found out that my mother had put more than a little work into getting that tape under the tree for her kid. She was on waiting lists at every record store in Battle Creek. She called regularly to check and see if the stores had an ETA on the documentary.She hoped, she fretted.All for me.My mom got the call on Dec. 23 that my tape was in. The weather was horrific; she went to Battle Creek anyway.She was going to make this happen.I don't even have a VHS player anymore, but I still have my "Sing Blue Silver" VHS tape. It has moved with me every time I've relocated (and I've moved a lot).I bring it with me because now, even though I haven't watched it in years, it's a symbol of something so much bigger. That tape is tangible, indisputable proof that my mother has always been willing to do anything to make me happy. If something means something to me, my mom wants to see it happen.And whenever she could give that a push, she did whatever it took.I could think of a thousand other examples of things my mother did for me. But it's that one the one that was wrapped in festive paper and tucked under the Christmas tree at the Lemke house in 1984  that sticks out for me.It was a defining moment in my relationship with my mom  I didn't know it at the time, but I do now and I cherish it.Somewhere in your memories, I hope you all have your own "Sing Blue Silvers."Merry christmas to all, and to all a good night.Jamie Barrand is the executive editor of The Daily Reporter, Hillsdale Daily News, Bronson Journal and Jonesville Independent. Follow her on Twitter at @editorbarrand.

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